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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507415">lips are twitching, so you crack a smile.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trxtr/pseuds/trxtr'>trxtr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo (Lone Star) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>"Difficult Conversations" Coda, 2.05, 9-1-1 Lone Star Spoilers, Angst, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt TK Strand, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Opoids, Overdose, Panic Attacks, Worried Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star), heed the warnings, unbetad, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:15:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trxtr/pseuds/trxtr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He took an experimental step out onto his driveway, finding the sidewalk cool under his bare feet. His joggers licked at his ankles, brushing against the bone as he stepped, but TK didn’t care. He couldn’t feel anything other than genuine hatred, right now, for both himself, and his parents.</p><p>—</p><p>or: TK overhears his parents talking about his mother's pregnancy.</p><p>(i’m frustrated with the lack of communication in this family and it has manifested itself into 6.6k words of me basically calling owen strand a bitch.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos Reyes &amp; Judd Ryder (9-1-1 Lone Star), Carlos Reyes &amp; Tommy Vega, Carlos Reyes/Fire Fam, Carlos Reyes/TK Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo (Lone Star) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>323</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lips are twitching, so you crack a smile.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is kind of a vent fic. I was frustrated with the lack of communication in this family and that frustration manifested into 6.5k words of me getting very angry at Owen and Gwyn.</p><p>DISCLAIMER! I do not hate Owen and Gwyn. I am just very frustrated with their actions and decision to leave TK out of the loop. I started writing this right after the episode when I needed to get out my frustrations on not only that, but the serious lack of Carlos.</p><p>So, yeah, this is pretty Carlos heavy, but there's some good firefam moments towards the end!!</p><p>This is also an installment of Bad Things Happen Bingo!! I got two very different requests for Overdose, so this is the first one! I will most likely write the other one as well, so y'all will get two different stories and perspectives eventually.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>TW: trust issues, self hatred, mentions of neglect, overdose, vomit, hospitals.</b></p><p> </p><p>(yeah this one's pretty heavy I love yall.)</p><p>THIS WORK IS NOT BETA'D! ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His head was pressed against the brick of his backyard, tears streaming down his face, the heels of his palms pressed into his eye sockets. He could feel himself breathing. He could feel himself gasping for air, loudly, shaking, panicking in his backyard at three in the morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If only his parents would shut up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He said it himself. The walls in the house weren’t that thick, but he wished they were. He wished they were thick enough to put worlds between himself and his parents, right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could this be happening? He’d been trying. He had been trying so fucking hard on himself, for his father, and now his boyfriend. He needed to be there for them. His dad had been sick; Carlos’s parents had been shit to him, but everything started to resolve itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything was starting to feel okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had grown his family. He had put down roots and started a new life. He was close with everyone from the 126. He was closer to Carlos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought he had resolved everything with his father.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But laying awake, listening to his parents mumble over an old sitcom about </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby names,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the stupid appointment that they had both scheduled and cancelled</span>
  <em>
    <span>without him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>TK finally put the pieces together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew his father had been treading lightly with him. He assumed it was just because of the obvious reason; because he was nothing but a fragile addict, and that's all he would be. Never in his life had he thought that he would be facing the harsh reality of his mother enduring a geriatric pregnancy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pregnancy he knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely nothing about.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew the stats. He had been a field medic since New York, and he knew how much women over a certain age struggled with conception. And, yeah, he was mad. He was pissed, but he was also so afraid, because he never thought he had a mom, yet he was afraid to lose her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That fear had layered itself in veil after veil of resentment and distrust towards his parents, though. He couldn’t keep himself from spiraling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m a fuck up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let out a harsh wail, cutting through the near silence of the night sky in the neighborhood. The stars were so beautiful. He had never paid attention to the stars in New York. It was always the lights, and the billboards, and the screaming, crowded streets. Even in his apartment, facing a blank piece of roof, dimming the artificial light just a little, TK still only remembered making out the moon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In Texas, the stars danced in the sky, sinking into his apple irises with a piercing, almost taunting beauty. He sometimes wondered why he had stayed in New York. His mind would supply him with bullshit reasoning, most along the lines of </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one else will love you anywhere else</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but TK found himself, tonight, telling himself that he didn't deserve it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deserve to see the stars, or fall in love, or save his dad, or make friends, or save lives. He didn’t deserve to stay sober.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was never good enough. They’re looking for a do over.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK let his mind slip back into his bedroom, where he sat, just moments before, clutching the sheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’ll be nice to have it again.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A kid. Like an actual, genuine, small thing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We should tell him, Owen.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll tell him when he’s ready.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When I’m ready,” TK murmured. “Is that what you think of me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s what he would have said to his mother if she were standing before him, but instead, he found himself spitting the syllables into thin air, hoping that they stuck somewhere for his parents to find later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve never been good enough for them. I’ll never be good enough for anyone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is that what they thought of him? Was he really some fragile, lowlife addict in need of constant shelter? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How the fuck would they even know?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They didn’t know him. They didn't know anything about him. They didn’t know that he was suffering. They didn't know that he and Carlos were coming up on their six months. They didn’t know his favorite food, or fruit, or color. They barely knew that he existed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now, with this new kid, he might as well not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK found himself pushing his hands against the wall, the tears soaking into the brick begins him. He pushed himself up on shaky legs, his shaky hand slowly reaching up to wipe his nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to do this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, I do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He yanked out his phone, staring at the screen for a moment, letting it unlock itself. He scrolled through his apps, eyes stinging as his thumb hovered his </span>
  <em>
    <span>I Am Sober </span>
  </em>
  <span>app. He knew if he opened it, he would recognize how stupid he was being, but that little voice in the back of his head made him realize that, maybe, if his parents had recognized their own rash decisions, they could have avoided this predicament altogether.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slammed his thumb down and waited for the x to appear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Years of treating me like I’m nothing; like I’m garbage. They’re starting over. They don’t want me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK watched as the app slipped from his field of view, being pulled back into the abyss of his previously downloaded folder, likely never to be touched again. There were many features that TK would miss; features that saved his life, or at least his sanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of those two really seemed to matter anymore, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took an experimental step out onto his driveway, finding the sidewalk cool under his bare feet. His joggers licked at his ankles, brushing against the bone as he stepped, but TK didn’t care. He couldn’t feel anything other than genuine hatred, right now, for both himself, and his parents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once an addict, always an addict</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt his chest begin to tighten, his neck heating up with an angry itch that TK barely remembered. He felt it creep up his spine, down his neck, flooding his whole body with an angry panic that nearly incapacitated him. He was blinking harshly, trying to keep the tears at bay as he stumbled barefooted down the road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To anyone, an incapacitated crying man missing his shoes would be enough to call 9-1-1, so he was glad that the roads were basically empty around this neighborhood. He stumbled down the street, into an alley, and pulled out twenty dollars, tossing it on the ground, before he sat down and waited.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was something that he had done on medical leave, when he was in so much pain that he felt the cravings just as strong as this. He had never acted on impulse, but he vaguely remembered stumbling upon a few hotspots around East Austin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>C’mon, Dad. There’s an opioid epidemic. You can throw a stick and you’ll hit ten guys selling oxys.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed so long ago when he had woken up on the floor of his apartment, his dad clutching onto his shoulders. It seemed so long ago that he had mumbled incoherent apologies into his father’s uniform, his father rubbing his hair and assuring him that it was okay; that it was just a setback.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I am the setback.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt his head snap up at the figure in front of him. The man was wearing a mask (who wasn’t, these days?) and had a dark jacket on. He held out a baggie with two pills, and TK frowned before pulling out another hundred bucks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take the full bottle,” He said, expectantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be careful,” the man replied, his half-closed eyes seeming to read TK like a book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to worry about me,” TK whispered back as he yanked the bottle and bag away from the man. He stood up with the faintest of fake smiles, and turned around, out of the alley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t quite sure where to go from here, so he popped the two pills in the bag and waited for them to go down. He felt the capsules scrape against his esophagus as they went down, one almost getting stuck until TK forced it down with a harsh swallow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They don’t have to worry about me anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head once more, leaning against the wall. He was waiting, patiently waiting for his high to kick in; for the pills to make it better like they always did, but with every passing minute, his patience grew shorter and shorter until he was pulling out the bottle. He shook a few into his hand and downed them, face contorting into an unsatisfied grimace when a couple fell from his palm to the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t pick them up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe they’d be found by someone else; someone who cared enough to pick them up and save someone else from the temptation of oxy on the ground. Maybe the lost, sad, discarded pills would find their way into someone’s belly; relieving their pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or maybe a jogger would come by and step on them, crushing them into a million tiny pieces, leaving them to be forgotten just like everyone else did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regardless, TK placed the bottle back in his pocket, and stammered out of the alleyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to be loved.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was starting to feel it, now, the beginnings of a high; the way the world seemed to turn around him, growing slower and slower with each passing movement. The itch had decided to subside into a small, nagging heat at the back of his shoulders. It seemed to push him on, shoving at his upper body with every step he took.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t dare look up on his journey. He was too focused on his feet; how they moved beneath him; how they managed to propel him forward with minimal effort, only ever faltering when he did not lift his foot up enough. He could see scapes and blisters forming on the bare skin, but he still ran, breath jagged and angry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one loves me. I don’t deserve it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only when he found himself sprinting up a couple of shallow stairs, banging on the door in front of him, did TK stop to take in his surroundings, and by the time he realized where he was, Carlos was already yawning at the door, concern evident in his features. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TK? TK, baby, what are you—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK shook his head and shoved himself forward, wrapping his arms around Carlos’s neck and pulling him into a deep, quick kiss. It took Carlos a moment to respond, but when he did, he leaned forward, kissing back as gently as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos brought a hand up to sweep through TK’s hair, enjoying the feeling of his boyfriend’s lips on his own. They were salty, as he was sure TK was aware, but they were also sweet with the taste of strawberry chapstick. He smiled into the kiss, until TK pushed him into the home. He watched the other boy slam the door behind him with his foot, and Carlos nearly grimaced against his lips at the noise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brought a kind hand up to cup TK’s cheek, slowly slotting his thumb in between their lips. This forced TK to pull back, his menagerie of tear stains on full display.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just want you,” TK whispered, gently pulling Carlos’s thumb between his lips. He hoped it would stop his boyfriend in his tracks; that instead of asking questions that he would just wait a few moments so he could feel him; feel his body against his own, bare and gentle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would be the perfect high.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TK,” Carlos warned, making TK pull away from his hand. “I’m flattered, my love, but it’s four in the morning. You should be at home. Sleeping.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am home,” TK murmured, his eyes slowly tracing his boyfriend’s figure. He was wearing a thin, tight t-shirt, and sweatpants that, at least to TK, left very little to the imagination. His eyes narrowed hungrily on Carlos’s chest, and he lunged forward again, latching his lips onto Carlos’s jaw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos stepped back again, beginning his own assessment of his boyfriend. TK had never acted like this. Not even when he showed up a year ago, dressed in a yellow hoodie, ready to break Carlos’s heart. He never acted like this; so hungry yet so exhausted at the same time. Carlos had to sift through the filing cabinet in his head just to attempt to get on the same page as his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay, my love?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m wonderful, Carlos,” TK chirped, his hand reaching up to brush against the light bruise he had left on his boyfriend’s jaw. He could see in Carlos’s eyes that he wasn’t buying it, and if TK weren’t so enamoured by the flashes of every conceivable emotion in his eyes, then maybe he would have realized how dumb it was to come here at this hour. Especially in the state that he’s in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it your parents again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When is it not my parents, Carlos?” TK sighed. He stepped back against the door, lips pink and wet from the hasty kiss the two had just shared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have a key,” Carlos remarked. “You didn’t have to knock, T.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” TK replied, closing his eyes for a moment. He let out a tiny chuckle. “I just wanted to know that you loved me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words tumbled out quicker than TK thought they had. He wasn’t surprised by the perplexed look that his boyfriend had given him immediately after. He just shrugged, the small chuckle evolving into an unnecessary, uncomfortable giggle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to knock on my door at four in the morning to know I love you, babe. I always will.” It was now Carlos’s turn to step forward. His boyfriend was stuck somewhere between sobbing and laughing at this point. Red flags were flashing in his head. “What’s actually going on, Ty?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK let his laugh turn into a gutteral one, and he doubled over trying to contain himself. It took him a moment to grasp onto his composure, but the more time that had elapsed, the more it fell from his grip, like sand, finding its way through every crevice in his fingers. He rolled his eyes, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re replacing me,” TK snorted, smacking his head back against the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos was in front of him in an instant, his jaw clenched as he tried to move TK away from the walls of his home. “What do you mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>replacing you?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked Carlos. He was fully awake now, any trace of sleep gone the moment TK had stumbled out of his grip. “You’re irreplaceable, TK.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mom’s pregnant!” TK snickered, as if it was the funniest, most amusing thing he had heard in his life. “I heard them talking about it in their room! They didn’t tell me.” He added the last part with a bit of disdain, but the overall angry-happy, cherry mood still remained in his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos could recognize a manic episode from a mile away, and this was the textbook definition. He could see the hurt and pain in his boyfriend’s eyes, masked by a happy haze. He was breathing heavily, doubled over laughing, but Carlos knew better. TK got manic sometimes, yeah, but he had never seen his boyfriend to this extreme. It was his job to help people like this. It was his job to talk callers down. It was his job to see if he could calm his boyfriend down, not only as a police officer, but as his lover.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Carlos found himself sliding off the couch and kneeling on the carpet. He made slow, steady movements, managing to fish one of TK’s hands out of his pocket and into his palm. He rubbed gentle circles over his knuckles with his thumb, his other hand reaching forward into the other’s pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What he pulled back, though, was not a trembling hand, but a near empty pill bottle, only two pills rattling inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, Carlos felt the world crash down around him. His head seemed to lose itself; his brain swimming in an ocean, lost at sea, searching for an anchor. He could feel his breath hitching, and his body tensing, but he couldn’t panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TK—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They never wanted me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TK—” He was cut off once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was a mistake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TK—” A third time. Carlos felt his eyes close tightly, tears beginning to cascade down his cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They had me when mom was in law school. They abandoned me and made a fuck up because they were so distracted. They never loved me. No one ever di—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tyler Kennedy Strand will you shut the fuck up for two fucking seconds and let me speak?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos was unaware of how easily he could lose his composure until he realized that he had yelled that loud enough for his neighbors to hear. He hated the way it made TK close in on himself; how it so evidently scared him, but Carlos was angry. He was hurt and he was betrayed and he was so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so afraid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he said, his voice quivering slightly. “I did and I do and I will love you for all of eternity and the fact that you’re just willing to sit here and…” Carlos trailed off, gesturing to the pills that had now been discarded on the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t bother finishing the sentence. He instead stood up and pulled his phone from his the island in the kitchen, panickedly dialing the three numbers that he knew so well; that he and his boyfriend worked for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hated needing them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call anyone,” TK whimed, weakly flapping his arms towards the phone. Carlos had pulled it away from his boyfriend, his white knuckle grip clinging onto the device for dear life as it rang.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby, it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many did you take?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> really,” TK muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many did you fucking take, Tyler?” Carlos barked. He saw TK sink in on himself again, eyes closing half as a defense mechanism; half because of the drugs pumping through his system.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, he should have seen this sooner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A handful,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Carlitos,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> came from purple lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos had to bite back a cry, his hands shaking as he waited for the operator to pick up. “TK, baby, you can’t do this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They found another reason to keep going,” TK mumbled, his chapped, discolored lips creeping into a small smile. “They’re going to be fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be,” Carlos cried, gripping onto his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure you will,” TK tried to joke. “A hunk like you? Gorgeous and happy. You’ll be just peachy, Carlos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, I won’t!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence befell within the condo as pinprick pupils found honey- chocolate irises. They locked eyes for a moment, and Carlos could see the moment that it clicked for his boyfriend. He saw the exact moment that his boyfriend put the pieces together; how this wasn’t the first time Carlos had seen this; how this wasn’t the first time he’d been wrecked over even the slightest possibility of the boy being hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lifted a hand, rubbed it across his shoulder and realized that this time it was entirely his fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“9-1-1 what is your emergency?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos sucked in a breath, letting his finger finally wrap around TK’s and pull his hand away from his shoulder. His lip quivered, and before he could tell the operator anything, a harsh sob wracked his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-my name is Officer Carlos Reyes. I’m at my home with my boyfriend. I think…” He shut his eyes. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “He’s overdosing,” he whimpered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched TK’s eyes. They were trained on him, unwavering. If Carlos hadn’t seen the fresh tears dripping down his cheeks, or the desperate, shallow rise and fall of his chest, he’d have thought they were stuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you, baby, okay?” He whispers, breaking his hand away to card his fingers through TK’s messy, fluffy hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos, don’t call my dad,” TK rasped. Carlos could see his face contort, and his hand fall to his stomach, but TK made no attempt to move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos got up and spat his address into the phone, sniffling. He shuffled back to the kitchen island and pulled his small trash can from the drawer next to the dishwasher. He sprinted back, dropping it next to his boyfriend. “Babe, you need to throw up for me, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His tone had shifted from a panicked anger to a soft spoken fear. TK noticed, and though he was so angry at his parents; so positive that he didn’t deserve to live because they never wanted him to, the horrified look in Carlos’s eyes was enough to get him to turn on his side, and cough up some of the drugs in his system. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos didn’t know what to do, aside from rub his back and hate himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew, logically, that none of this was his fault. He knew that sometimes, addicted brains could look for any reason to use again, and he shouldn’t be blaming anyone, but Carlos felt just as much anger directed towards himself as he did Owen and Gwyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because he had been there. He had been there night after night, hoping to be that safe haven for his boyfriend. He had given him his keys and said, “Hey, let yourself in.” He had told him he was welcome whenever, and didn’t tie him down and take him in when he really should have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK should never have been there, tonight. He should have been safe in Carlos’s arms, asleep, aware of just how much Carlos loved him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Carlos whimpered, realizing that TK’s eyes were now closed. He didn’t know what to do. He was trained very minimally in first aid, and though he had assisted on several drug busts, overdoses were never his forte.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could lose TK, right here, right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could be watching him take his last breath, praying for a miracle while every second was wasted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could be helping, but instead he was crying on the phone with a disembodied voice who seemed to know him while the only thing keeping him from tearing his own life into a million tiny pieces slowly crumbled beneath him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moment Carlos set the phone down on the armrest of the couch was the same moment TK stopped shaking beneath him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T?” He asked, sniffling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there was no response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TK?” Carlos tried again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was met with silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos felt himself stand up, his panic manifesting into adrenaline as he yanked his boyfriend up with him. He pulled him off the cushions of the couch and onto the floor, fingers pressing firmly onto his lover’s neck. He bit back a desperate cry when he felt a pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos began to wrack his mind for any possible solutions, but again, nothing came. He was sitting there, on his knees, horrified, fingers stuck to his neck, holding out for a miracle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No such miracle came.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos was four rounds into CPR when Tommy opened the door into the condo. Carlos was panicked; shaking as he continued to press on his lover’s chest. He felt hands pull him away as Captain Vega took his place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world was underwater as he stared at his boyfriend’s unmoving figure. Every sound seemed to exist miles away, and everything that stood in his field of vision that wasn't TK almost had a translucence to it, as if it didn't exist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone was saying his name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t listening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reyes!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He startled at the southern drawl; the voice momentarily breaking him out of his trance. He kept his eyes on TK, seeing the defibrillator being set down next to tommy and Nancy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy and Nancy? This can’t… they can’t be here!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s give them some space, Carlos. C’mon, buddy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Judd who wound up carrying him out of the house while he trashed and screamed and cried. It was Judd who dropped him at the back of the firetruck, pressing his back against the cool metal. It was Judd who placed a small, warm, metallic blanket over his shoulders, and knelt down in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought…” Carlos squeaked. “I thought you were off tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, man, it was just Owen and TK off tonight,” Judd responded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos flinched at that. He knew that both himself and TK lived within the 126’s radius. He knew that TK also was aware of that fact, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that this wasn’t just a relapse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re acting captain?” Carlos rasped, still unable to look him in the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, buddy. I’ll call cap here in a bit—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Carlos snapped. “Don’t call him. TK said not to call him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos could see Judd’s figure deflate as he ran a gloved hand through his hair. He was just as much at a loss for words as the man across from him, but Judd still managed to take a breath in, to speak. “Does this have to do with the cap, Carlos?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, you mean the fact that he and his ex wife neglected his son for most of his life and still manage to make him feel invisible?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened, Carlos?” Judd asked, tentatively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gwyn is pregnant,” Carlos breathed, wide eyes stuck on the pavement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gwyn is pregnant,” He repeated. “And they didn’t tell TK. He must have… he must have overheard them because he came to my door and he was crying but he kissed me and told me he needed to hear someone say he loved him.” He choked on the last part of the sentence, a shaky hand reaching up to pull on his curls. “He said they never loved him; that no one did. That they were trying to replace him because he felt like a fuck up and I thought he was just manic so I tried to talk him down and take his hand but he had pills in his pocket—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, Carlos,” Judd said. “I’m gonna need you to breathe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s dying!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos,” Judd warned, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna be no help to him in this condition. I promise, I ain’t gonna call Cap, but the hospital most likely will since he’s TK’s emergency contact. Now, look at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos brought his eyes to meet Judd’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any moment now, they’re gonna bring your boy out, and he’s going to need you now more than ever. He had nobody but his daddy the last time this happened, and somethin’ tells me he ain’t gonna be too happy if that’s the case again, so, and I mean this with all the kindness and sincerity in my heart, I need you to get off your high horse, wipe your face off and man up, because that boy needs you just as much as you need him.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos felt himself nod, his eyes drifting from Judd to the door of his home. TK had been intubated. He was unconscious, unmoving except for the tiny jostles throughout his body when the stretcher snagged a crack in the pavement. Nancy was bagging him, face blank as they passed by the truck on the way to the ambulance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos found himself mindlessly following.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How… How is he?” He asked, voice hushed, though the tears were still evident.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know how long he was down, Carlos, and I can’t give you any information beyond that. They’ll do a work up at the hospital,” said Tommy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos sunk into the wall of the ambulance, bringing his knees to his chest. He wiped his eyes, sniffling softly before reaching out to wrap his fingers around TK’s pinky. “I should have known. He was acting weird. I thought it was just mania. He can get like that, you know? He’s been sober since we met. I’ve never seen him high. I should have called as soon as I thought something was wrong. Oh… Oh my god, I should have—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did everything you could, Carlos. The moment you figured it out, you called. You talked to him. You got him to throw up a little. That’s what you should have done, Carlos. You did everything right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For a civilian, maybe,” Carlos whimpered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see a uniform.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s implied,” Carlos growled. “I should be good under pressure. I shouldn’t have let him get like this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is an impossible standard, Reyes, and you know it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, tears dropping onto TK’s unmoving hand. “My standards for myself are unattainable when it comes to him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about him, Carlos,” Tommy offered, taking over the bag as Nancy sat down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You work with him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s never told me about himself,” Tommy shrugged. “He seems like a pretty open book when he’s around you, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos had to bite back a sob and mask it with a chuckle. “He’s everything to me,” He whispered, squeezing TK’s pinky. “He’s stupid and arrogant and loud and his smile lights up my life every time I see it. He’s wild and wonderful but he respects me and my boundaries. His favorite TV show is SVU and his favorite book is this stupid teen book that I can’t remember the name of. There’s a movie adaptation with Zack Galifinackis and Emma Watson and we tried to watch it one time but he kept going on and on about how the book was better than the movie and how the movie was missing key elements that the book didn’t have. I didn’t mind, though. I got the gist of the plot while he talked at me for hours about it. It made him so happy…” He sucked in a breath. “He was so happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos felt the ambulance come to a stop, and his face contorted into a horrified wince. He only eased up a little when Tommy squeezed his shoulder before hopping out of the ambulance. Carlos strained to listen, but half the words were gibberish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Victim is Tyler Kennedy Strand, 27, Oxycodone overdose, possible cerebral hypoxia. He’s been treated with narcan. He’s vomited once that we know of.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos felt the world crash down on him as he trailed behind Tommy into the emergency room. He trotted, exhausted, to a chair in the corner of the waiting room and sat down, reassuming his original position, chin between his knees, staring blankly at the tile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stayed like that for what felt like hours (but was probably mere minutes) before a large blob of black and various beiges clouded his vision. He didn’t have to look up or focus to recognize the rest of the 126. Between Mateo’s sniffles and Marjan’s encouraging whispers, Carlos knew almost immediately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They just called Owen,” Judd said, taking a seat next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna kill him,” Carlos growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could tell that the rest of the 126 were as confused as their minds would allow, but they chose not to ask questions. Carlos was grateful for that, because he was sure he didn’t know the answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go easy on him, would you?” Judd murmured. “If you start punchin’ him then I might start punchin’ him and I quite value my job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They threw him away,” Carlos whimpered. “They made him feel like he was trash; a mistake, and they didn’t even bother to try and fix this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos, you said it yourself. He overheard somethin’ he wasn’t meant to hear, and he acted out. They would have told him when they were ready.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They should have told him when they knew,” Carlos growled. “Can we just… Can we not talk about this right now? I don’t want to be thinking about them when they show up.” He caught Judd deflating out of the corner of his eye, before he felt that same strong arm wrap around him once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Carlos relaxed into the grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And for that one moment, everything felt okay. He was with his family, leaning on Judd while Marjan and mateo absentmindedly sat on the floor, braiding his shoelaces while Paul looked on with a grin. Carlos almost found himself smiling at the sense of community they had built. They had created it from the ground up, from opposite sides of the country, and managed to make a family; a life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And though it angered him beyond all comprehension, he had Owen Strand to thank for this ragtag group of misfits, surrounding him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why he didn’t stand and punch him straight in the jaw when he stumbled in, horrified. Maybe that’s why he settled for the patented Officer Carlos Reyes criminal glare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How is he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We uh,” Judd started. “We don’t know, Cap.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos noticed his eyes flicking between Owen and Gwyn, narrowing on his captain. He wanted to laugh; to send Judd to charge at him; beat his ass, but instead, Judd spoke first. “TK knows,” he said, forcing Owen’s eyebrows upwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos found himself mocking his boyfriend under his breath; stating the same complaint that he had told everyone when they stayed at Carlos’s for a friendship-night-in. “The walls in your house are not that thick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence fell upon the group once more as Carlos tore his resentful gaze away from his boyfriend’s parents. He rested his chin on his knees again, and stared off into a far corner of the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Owen,” Gwyn said softly. “I told you we should have told him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would have messed him up, Gwyn. Could you imagine if we told him and then booked the appointment?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But we cancelled the appointment, Owen. Two and a half weeks ago. He should have known!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was just trying to protect him,” Owen defended, narrowing his eyes at his ex wife.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Protect him? Protect him, Owen? Look at where we are!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the love of god would you two </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos, in similar fashion to earlier tonight, found himself surprised at his won tone and volume. The resentment in his chest was growing tighter, threatening to suffocate him if he didn’t get to speak. With trembling hands, he lowered his feet to the floor and held tightly onto his thighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you probably don’t give two shits about what I’m about to say, but as someone who has your </span>
  <em>
    <span>son’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> best interests as my top priority, I can say right now, with all due respect, that the feeling is mutual.” He looked up, his chocolate eyes meeting Owen’s darkened gray ones. “I don’t know everything. I only know that he showed up at my house, horrified… distraught, because he felt like he wasn’t enough for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos could se Gwyn and Owen’s faces fall, but he continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He told me that he felt unlovable; like you two needed a replacement because he was never good enough for you. He genuinely thought that no one ever loved him, and no one will.” He felt his vocal chords constrict in his throat, making him choke on the sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t true.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t matter,” Judd interjected. “Cap, do you not remember what I told you in the gym a couple weeks ago? How knowing you love someone doesn’t mean they know you love them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen closed his eyes, sitting down. He rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers catching on every wrinkle, and for a brief moment, Carlos saw him wipe a tear away. “I believe your exact words were that you would walk through fire so that Grace knows you love her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Cap, those were.” Judd looked up at him with a sigh. “That don’t just go romantically, Owen. I know you love that boy. I know he’s y’all’s world, y’all’s everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Mateo muttered. Hoping to contribute. “But he… he says stuff when we’re all at Carlos’s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Says stuff?” Gwyn prompted. She had taken the seat across from Judd, two chairs down from Owen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y’all are killing me,” Paul grumbled, looking up from his magazine. “Look, here’s what it is from our perspective. TK got hurt, and you came down here to take care of him.” He gestured towards Gwyn. “And now you two are expecting another kid—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Marjan interjected, and Paul rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The way they came in here with some big secret? The way they’ve been tiptoeing around us, Cap prompting Tommy to overshare about her girls, and Gwyn cant keep her hands off her stomach, need I say more?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this makes so much sense,” Mateo murmured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It really doesn’t,” Owen pried, eyebrows raised at Paul.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Long story short, you two rekindled an old flame to take care of him, and the moment he’s somewhat okay, y’all </span>
  <em>
    <span>hide</span>
  </em>
  <span> a pregnancy from him. No wonder he feels like he’s not enough for you two. You both have savior complexes. That’s why you took this job in the first place.” He gestured towards Owen. “But the minute he stops needing saving and starts to just need help, he’s disregarded and put aside for someone else; someone more helpless. He acts out to get your attention, and it never stays on him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos was thankful for Paul’s honesty, no matter how blunt it was. He found himself speaking once more, this time a little gentler. “When I had my first real conversation with him he had gotten into a bar fight,” he sniffed. “It hurt so bad, seeing him like that. He had told me that everything was numb and gray and he did it to feel something, and ever since then I’ve been trying to be enough for him. I’ve been trying so hard.” He felt a hot tear drip down his face and onto his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when Owen softened and reached for Carlos, but Carlos shied away from the touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t keep doing this by myself. We can’t keep doing this.” He waved a hand at the rest of the 126; his family. “He needs you two more than you realize. He barely knows us. I think he knows me better than he knows either of you and he’s known me for one out of those twenty-seven precious years that he’s walked this earth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos, I…” Owen began, ducking to meet the man’s gaze. He didn’t notice until now, but Gwyn had grabbed his hand at some point during that speech, and she didn’t plan on letting go. “I am so sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” He retorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do we fix this?” Gwyn murmured. “You know him better than anyone, Carlos. How do we make this right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos shrugged, smiling when Marjan lovingly nudged his leg. “Act like he exists?” He tried. “Treat him with kindness? Don’t drag him into arguments? Tell him when you have life-altering news?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen and Gwyn simultaneously sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t underestimate him.” Marjan chimed in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe listen to what he has to say every once in a while?” said Judd. “The kid may be an idiot, but he ain’t stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when you have this baby,” Carlos continued, running a hand through his sweaty curls. “Remember that you have two kids now. No matter how distant one may seem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos found himself smiling at his own sentiment, his own words being a comfort to his relentless, ever-beating heart. He knew that TK was going to be okay. He had to be. They had a family to build, and one to maintain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Carlos,” Gwyn sighed. “Thank you for saving him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s what you do when you love someone.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you sm for reading!! Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated!!</p><p>visit me on <a href="https://trkstrnd.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p><p>Title from Caterpillars (of the Commonwealth) by Will Connolly.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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